Get On Your Knees Then (And Eat Me)
by Jaded Expression of Euphoria
Summary: Stiles is Little Red Riding Hood and he's about to meet a whole pack of Big Bad Wolves (but it's okay, because he just might like it). This is a TEASER for the story in full on Archive Of Our Own. Multiple pairings, Stiles POV, Sterek ending! Werewolves are Known, most of everything after season 1 doesn't apply, slightly parody (?), sensuality... (I'm fishing, IDEK)


**Author's Note:** Okay so I got this idea and it was just too good to pass up. The title is from a hitrecorderly video [[ go to youtube and after "com" paste this with "spaces" removed- /watch?v=t0DUVW-zzmY&feature=youtu . be&t=58 ]] that I still remember from 5 years ago. I really fucking love that poem no joke. I think about it sometimes on certain sunny 2pms.

Anyway, if you can hang on until the end of this fic, I think y'all'll really like the contents. BUUUUUT I'm gonna be straight with ya! I'm not posting the whole fic here. I'm posting a teaser. I have a pretty laissez-faire attitude toward entertainment consumption (Read At Own Risk) but I also like RACK ( ** _R_** _isk **A** ware_ **C** onsensual **K** ink, but I'm trying to put emphasis on the RISK AWARE part), so the whole fic will be found on Ao3, including more information on everything in the tags, summary, and author's notes there. This way, if you find it's not something that's for you, here you can click back and be done, but if you do find you want to read more, you can head over to Archive (links in my bio, or at the bottom Author's Note). Everyone should have the decision to make fully RISK AWARE decisions about things that can affect their mental/emotional health.

But really, this whole thing is nothing but smutty smutness. Lots of pairings, sterek-leaning ending. Fun fun fun. If anything you've read about this all so far is not your Cup Of Tea, just leave it. No one is forcing you to drink tea you don't like.

 **Warnings for this chapter:** crossdressing, corsets, sensuality (in relation to the previous two), pursuit, betrayal, and being trapped

* * *

Stiles nervously smoothed his skirt down, which was an unnecessary exercise of futility considering how he was trying to smooth down delicate, ruby lace covering too many layers of soft white silk that was bunched and gathered around his hips for maximum ruffle and fullness. The lace itself fell into the topmost ruffles and moved with the whole skirt. It swished gently around his thighs with every slight move and even in the softest of breezes. There was so much ruffle, Stiles could bend over and touch the floor with straight legs and the very bottom of his ass barely peeked out from under the short layers of fabric. Which was great because Stiles kind of wanted to wear this skirt every day of his life from this point on.

The silk felt wonderful; he had been eagerly anticipating the day when he would be allowed to wear his new outfit. And here he was, the brush of the thin material felt even through the sheer fabric of his snow-white stockings that stretched all the way so the lace bands were just barely under the hem of his skirting-the-line-of-decency skirt. (Seriously, he was only about three inches max away from a stage with a pole and a roomful of business suits or datemate-date-night-outfit territory.) And though he trusted the thick bands of elastic lace around the tops to hold his stockings up, he still secured them to a matching garter belt he had on under the thick waistband of the skirt just in case. All of it sat pretty low on his narrow hips but he wasn't worried. So far, no matter how he moved, everything stayed in place.

He twisted his hips side to side just to feel how the skirt caressed his skin, freshly shaved and baby soft. It was a wispy, sensuous touch unlike any he had ever felt before in his twenty-two years of life. (Stiles was actually wondering how he had gone this long without having tried on a skirt. Why had none of the girls and some guys and neither-either-ors in his life let him on this secret yet?)

A deep breath caught in his lungs only to be let out in a shuddery sigh as the snugness of the corset he wore grounded him back in the moment. He didn't think he'd like the corset when it was first suggested for this Special Outfit, but let himself be talked into it and measured and now here he was. It was custom made to his _exact_ measurements, masculine in shape but intricate and dainty in appearance. It was made of the finest materials along with the skirt as both were made to come together - complimentary.

Stiles had no clue how corsets were made, but he had always thought they would be constricting, uncomfortable to wear. On the contrary, he was quite comfortable. The ribbing wasn't as stiff as he thought it would be; he could almost take a full, deep breath before feeling too constricted to continue inhaling. He thought it would pinch along his back as it laced up along his spine but the only difference he felt was how much straighter his posture was. It made him feel confident and beautiful. It wasn't itchy either, not with the satiny softness of the lining. And even though it dipped up his sternum between his modest pectorals _and_ down between the crests of his hips in gentle curves, it didn't dig in or jab him at all.

He figured his comfort was due to the customization and considerate handling of the Lady who made it as she laced him up, guiding him through breaths and checking for pain through every inch of cinching. He had never worn anything even remotely like a corset before. The whole process had gone to his head, making him lightheaded with delight. The Lady deserved every pretty penny she charged.

The corset really was a work of art, with carmine panels and sanguine vertical stripes separating them out evenly. The same pattern of delicate lace from his skirt – white in opposition – filled in two panels up his stomach around the (white) center panel of purely-decorative, thin ribbons of varying wine-dark shades woven in a complicated pattern down his middle - creating tiny diamonds and elegant twists - that ended in a small, layered bow at the dip that dropped between his hipbones and covered the band of his skirt. The lacing in the back was black because it would be hidden by the largest article of his new outfit.

Stiles swung a large, blood-bright cloak up and around with a twist to settle it across his shoulders, tying tight the thickly braided cotton rope in the front to hold it in place. The length of his cloak fell almost all the way down to his velvety cherry-stained, mary jane ballet flats. And his light, cream-colored peasant top was almost completely hidden by it. He had to adjust the large neckline to make sure it was comfortable across his collarbones and hadn't come untucked from the top of his corset. It wasn't a full shirt, cropped around his ribs and arms as it was spring and the days were warmer - if not completely removed from the bite of winter as it blew through the trees and nipped at your bones if you weren't properly dressed.

And since Stiles was headed into the woods today, he'd need the added protection.

He carefully adjusted the sweet little armbands that started halfway up his forearm and laced down into many-looped bows on the backs of his hands and a gentle ruffle of sheer fabric that fell to his second knuckles. Then, with a deep breath, he picked up his basket, double-checked the latch keeping the top flaps secured together, and set out the door. He was so excited and nervous and ready!

* * *

 _"Okay, Stiles, you're headed to your Nonna's and it's a big day for you. You haven't seen her in years. And you're finally an adult! Old enough to make the journey alone. You've saved up for a nice, new outfit as a birthday gift to yourself to show off in. You've got a basket of gifts for her. Smile a little! Aren't you excited?"_

 _Stiles rolled his eyes at Charles' version of a pep-talk. Or was it a rundown of events? Somehow, his speech cadence always sounded like his old lacrosse coach's and could contain just as bizarre sentences occasionally._

 _"Nervous, more like," Stiles mumbled, adjusting his basket. They were at the edge of the woods where the path he was supposed to walk down disappeared into forestry._

 _"Eh, don't be," Charles said with a wave of his hand. He gave Stiles a once over and nodded. "No-one's going to know your name, so you'll probably get called 'Little Red' or something. Just roll with it. Remember what we're doing. It's part of our deal, remember. Get into that mindset! Be Little Red!"_

 _It was Stiles' turn to nod._

 _"You'll be fine."_

Stiles pulled his hood up over his head as he walked down the hardpacked, wide, dirt path, glancing up at the sky which had become overcast. He thought it might rain, which could potentially suck a lot if he wasn't as close to the house as he was hoping. His outfit might end up soggy and sad.

He adjusted his basket.

"Uhh... Excuse me?" A voice called out and Stiles' heart jumped in his chest. He kept his steady pace, ignoring the man who had to be nearby.

"Uhm, Red? Red Hood?" The man persisted and Stiles could hear him stomping through the underbrush that grew thickly on both sides of the path.

"C'mon, Red, I know you can hear me," he said, closer. Stiles rolled his eyes to himself before he glanced up and saw that approaching from in front and to the right was a man wearing a black and red, plaid flannel that was more than half open over a white undershirt. His dark-brown work pants were held up by sturdy suspenders over his shoulders and he had an axe – a real honest-to-god woodcutter's axe – tossed casually over one shoulder. His short brown hair was sticking up and appeared damp with sweat.

"Hello," Stiles greeted politely, not slowing. He turned his attention back down the trail, but not before he caught sight of a friendly smile directed at him. The lumberjack guy had dimples. He was actually kind of adorable. Despite not being the conventionally typical definition of attractive, the guy was. His face was narrow, nose a little pointed, but his eyes were kind and warm in contrast. His skin was a natural olive tone and completely smooth.

"Hi," he said, crashing through the thickest bushes before his feet hit the path and he fell into step with Stiles. "I'm Danny. I work out here, cutting wood."

Stiles ignored him. Which was hard because Stiles thought that he looked too familiar like maybe Stiles had seen him before, maybe even before he'd had to move when he was still in high school.

"Oh, don't be like that. What's your name?" Danny asked and he seemed sweet enough but…

"Red is fine," he said.

"Okay, Red it is then." Danny gave him another small smile and Stiles found himself returning it. "Sorry if I seem pushy. I just don't see many people this way. It's nice to see another person. ...Especially one as pretty as you."

Stiles felt himself blush and ducked his head to hide behind his hood.

"What are you doing this deep in the woods?" Danny asked and Stiles gave him a small, genuine grin.

"I'm headed to my Nonna's—"

A loud, growling that grew into a full-on howl cut him off and Danny's face went ashen, expression falling into something horrified.

Stiles felt a stab of fear as the sound carried through the forest. It sounded like a wolf, but there shouldn't be any wolves. Not in this area. Not between Beacon Hills and any of the surrounding towns. Besides, he'd never heard a wolf that sounded like that before.

In the distance, more howls echoed and Danny gulped audibly.

"We need to go," he said and snatched Stiles' hand, tugging him into a run, down the path, heading farther into the forest.

"No, wait, where are we going?" Stiles yelped, trying to shake Danny off but the man just tightened his grip. He wasn't much older than Stiles but he was clearly stronger.

"I have a cabin nearby," Danny said to him on a heavy exhale. Stiles stumbled and dropped his basket, tugging on Danny's arm to stop for it.

"Leave it! We have to get to my cabin."

They cut around a corner onto a different, smaller path and after a minute, Stiles could see a quaint little log cabin at the end of the path. It had to be a hundred yards away still. And those wolves had sounded close. He hoped they got to it in time.

Together, they nearly slammed against the sturdy door into the cabin, hearts pounding with adrenaline and fear. Danny kicked a bolt near the bottom loose and another near their heads clattered back and Stiles was being shoved in.

"Quick, inside!" Danny panted, and Stiles stumbled into the safety of the cabin—

Just before the door slammed shut behind him and, as he whirled around to see if Danny had made it inside safely, the bolts rasped back into place and were locked there with consecutive click-thumps.

Stiles' heart jumped into his throat as he realized he was locked inside. A light clicked on behind him and he threw himself against the door in terror and began banging on it with his fists.

"Danny!" He yelled. "What are you doing?! Please! Let me out! Please! What are you doing!?"

"Shhhh," he heard behind him, cooing, "It's okay, Little Red."

He glanced over his shoulder and saw pairs of glowing gold and electric blue eyes, fangs, fur. Beasts. Were-beasts.

Werewolves.

Oh, god, he was going to die.

He sobbed out a breath and beat harder on the door, curling against it.

"Why are you doing this!?" He screamed, no longer hearing Danny on the other side. "Why me? Please let me out! Let! me! out!"

There was heat at his back, a warm exhale across his nape, and he ducked his head, wishing desperately that his hood was still up, that it hadn't fallen back in what he thought was a flee from the monsters at his back.

"No, no, no, no," he cried. "Please… Don't do this! Let me out!"

Fangs brushed the shell of his ear.

"Shhhhh…"

"I'm sorry," Danny called out, voice cracking. "I had to."

And then his pounding footfalls raced away from the cabin and Stiles was alone with the wolves.

 _"And remember, if at any time you need it, call for help. I mean it. I can't have you getting hurt. Don't push yourself and convince yourself you can do more than you can. Okay? Say the words 'help me' exactly. Or actually any variation. Just make sure you say 'help.' Yell them if you have to. I'll know. I need you to come back from this, okay. Safety first."_ Those were Charles' last words to him before he set off.

A hand with thick claws curled around him and landed on the laced bodice of his corset, reeling him back away from the door, the only way out. All around the room, lamps flicked on and Stiles was eased around to face the gathered beasts.

* * *

 **AN:** You made it! It's just a short little introduction. The next chapter is also pretty short as the stage is set, but the third chapter gets really interesting really fast.

Now! There's going to be one more chapter posted here but! if you're already wanting more you can read here (go to archive of our own and after the "org" in the url just past this- /works/16425143/chapters/38456912 ) [or you can hit up my bio for a link to my ao3 profile]


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